


Dog

by pocketwhale



Series: Merthur One-Word Ficlets [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt!Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketwhale/pseuds/pocketwhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin hated that dog. Really. Just flat out hated it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog

**Author's Note:**

> This ones a bit on the longer side. I have another one that is longer like this one but I might not include it in the series.

Merlin hated that dog. Really. Just flat out hated it.

And he was pretty sure that it hated him too.

It was Arthur’s favorite hunting dog; the best of the bunch and head of the pack. It was a huge brute with slick brown fur and sharp, beady black eyes. It had jaws powerful enough to take down a hart with a single bite and teeth sharp enough to tear through skin and muscle right to the bone. It was born and bred to kill, and it had it out for Merlin.

Any time Merlin was sent to feed the dogs or clean their kennel Swefred, that demon possessed dog, would charge him, snarling and snapping. Merlin really didn’t understand it, the other dogs were all relatively docile around him, but Swefred seemed determine to tear out his heart, or at least bite off his leg.

Merlin sometimes wondered if the dog was smarter than he looked. Sometimes, the beast would give him a look like it knew. Maybe dogs and other animals could smell magic, Merlin wasn’t sure, but he thought that perhaps Swefred knew of his abilities and was convinced he was doing right by his prince and by King Uther by trying to kill him. Uther’s hatred of sorcerers was so great, he really wouldn’t be surprised if it trickled down even to Camelot’s animals.

What Merlin really hated about the dog, however, wasn’t so much that it was trying to kill him, but that it would only try to do so if Arthur wasn’t around. When his master was present, the dog behaved perfectly; minus the dirty looks that Merlin swore on his grave the dog gave him. It at least ensured his safety on hunting trips, and for that Merlin supposed he should be grateful, but it also meant Arthur would never see or believe that Swefred had it out for him.

“Merlin! Hurry up before all the game hides away for winter!”

Merlin ran to his prince’s side, laden with bags of supplies, Arthur’s crossbow, and quivers of bolts. Swefred and a couple other dogs were already sitting, waiting patiently at Arthur’s feet for his incompetent manservant.

“Are you ready? Can we hunt now? Or did you forget something else that will take you until sunset to retrieve?”

Merlin scowled. He hated hunting; he felt that the killing of defenseless animals for sport was ghastly. He understood its necessity, but often Arthur would just go for a hunt when he had nothing better to do, and Merlin knew that this was one of those times. Arthur knew of Merlin’s aversion to hunting, and his dislike of Swefred, so naturally he would add to the absolute joy of this trip by taunting him mercilessly. “I wasn’t that long,” Merlin muttered as they set out from the castle gates.

Arthur just smirked and fell silent as they headed towards the woods, the dogs trailing several feet behind them. Merlin could almost feel Swefred’s eyes tracking him, as if he were a rabbit in the undergrowth. He unconsciously moved closer to Arthur, and luckily, the Prince didn’t seem to notice.

Once well into the depths of the woods, Arthur fell low into his hunting stance, making himself as unnoticeable as possible while still remaining alert and ready. The dogs were getting restless, circling Arthur’s feet and sniffing at the ground. They had already caught some small game; a couple of rabbits that were now slung over Merlin’s shoulder, but Merlin knew that Arthur was looking for a satisfying kill today. Suddenly, Swefred lifted his nose to the air and darted off between the trees, the rest of the dogs following closely behind. Arthur motioned for Merlin to follow and they trailed after the dogs.

Up ahead, the dogs were all crouched; eyes trained on their game, which, as they approached, Merlin realized was a bloody massive, but completely unaware bear. Merlin breathed in sharply and he felt his heart pound violently in his chest. Arthur shot him a glare, telling him to stay quiet, as he moved into position to shoot the bear. Merlin passed him a bolt before they got too close and Arthur readied it, eyes never wavering from his mark. Crossbow at the ready, he zoned in on the bear and then, in an instant, he let the bolt fly.

The bear turned at the noise of the bolt whistling through the air, but it was too late. The bolt sunk into the fur of the bear’s neck and it reared up, roaring in pain and anger, but before it could do anything else, the dogs sprang. Swefred bowled the bear over, going right for its throat while the rest of the pack overwhelmed it. The growls and snarls of the bear soon gave way to whimpers and then, it was completely silent. The dogs moved back from the bear and Arthur deemed it safe to leave the cover of the bush.

“Would you look at that!” Arthur said with a laugh. He pet Swefred’s head fondly. Merlin frowned.

“I hope you have some sort of plan to get that thing back to Camelot, because I’m certainly not going to carry it.” Arthur looked up from his hunting dog to Merlin and then down to the large bear at their feet.

“Well of course not, Merlin. You’re so scrawny it would probably snap you in half before you made it three feet,” Arthur taunted. At least he had the decency to look slightly embarrassed as he said it, not having realized that there would be no way they could bring this massive kill back to Camelot tonight.

“We’ll have to carve it here. Take it in pieces,” Arthur murmured as he examined the bear.

“We’ll be here all night!” Arthur turned to look at his manservant with a smirk.

“Good thing you brought the bedrolls, then.” Merlin grumbled in annoyance as he began setting up camp and Arthur set to work at gutting his completely unnecessary kill. The dogs either settled down to watch their master work or padded around the camp, sniffing at the air and pouncing on small game. Swefred stayed by Arthur’s side, but Merlin could feel the dog’s eyes trained on him as if he were the bear that was now dead, and not the Prince’s manservant.

\---

The sun was far gone by the time Merlin laid out their bedrolls, started a fire, and made dinner of the small game they had caught before. Arthur busied himself with preparing the bear and just about finished as Merlin handed him a bowl of rabbit stew. Arthur took it gladly and joined Merlin by the fire. He cleaned his bloodied hands with some water from his skein before tucking in.

“This is quite good, Merlin,” Arthur commented nonchalantly. “Could do with a bit more salt though.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Then you make it next time, Sire.”

Arthur chuckled at his manservant’s insolence and bumped his shoulder. “Then what would you do, Merlin? Don’t want to put you out of a job.”

“Cleaning up after you and keeping you out of trouble is job enough,” Merlin responded, also chuckling.

They ate their stew in companionable silence as the sounds of the forest settled all around them. Merlin loved moments like these, when it was just him and Arthur together. No evil creature out to get Arthur, no crazy overbearing king, no duties, and no real rank separation between them. It was only when they were alone that the line between prince and manservant disappeared and their friendship became the bond that tied them, and Merlin treasured it. It made hunting trips, even really horrible ones with really horrible dogs, worth it.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, interrupting Merlin’s thoughts. He had placed his dish to one side, having finished. Merlin looked at Arthur curiously.

“Sorry for what?”

“For bringing you out here. I know you’re not fond of hunting.” He shifted awkwardly. “I just.. I like getting a chance to get away from the castle and all the pressures and all the people,” Arthur murmured, edging around what it really was he wanted to say. Merlin saved him from trying to put what he felt to words.

“It’s okay, Arthur,” he said with a soft smile, looking fondly at his Prince, who was glaring at his hands. “I really don’t mind hunting as much as I say I do. Well, I mean I do. I don’t like hunting at all, but I like getting a chance to get away too. And I like… I like when it’s just us.” Merlin immediately dropped his gaze to his own hands. It was as close as he would get to saying how much being with Arthur meant to Merlin, but judging by Arthur’s reaction, he had picked up on it anyway.

The prince suddenly looked up at Merlin, eyes wide, and a bit hopeful.

“Merlin,” he said softly, and his manservant looked up. They locked gazes, the world around them falling away for just a moment. Arthur moved a bit closer, and Merlin could almost feel his breath on his face. “Merlin,” he said again, just a whisper. They were so close. If he just leaned forward, Merlin could—

Swefred barked loudly. Merlin and Arthur jolted apart, and the spell was broken.

“Right,” Arthur said with as he cleared his throat. “We better get some sleep so we can carry this back tomorrow.” The Prince moved away from Merlin and made his way over to his bedroll. Merlin released a small sigh but said, “Of course, Arthur,” and collected their dishes to do the washing up.

He returned to see Arthur already spread along his bedroll, muscles relaxed and eyes closed. Merlin watched him breathing softly for a moment before going to his own bedroll to lie down.

“Goodnight Arthur,” he said quietly, despite his Prince already being asleep.

And if he heard a responding ‘Goodnight Merlin,’ it was probably just his imagination.

\---  
Merlin awoke with a start in the dark of the night. The fire was reduced to embers and he could still hear Arthur snoring softly across the way, but something was off. Merlin stayed still and silent, waiting for whatever it was that had disturbed him to become apparent.

After several silent moments, he heard a rustling in the bushes farther from their camp. Merlin quietly rose from his bedroll and stood, staring into the dense foliage, trying to discern what was out there. He looked to Arthur who lay undisturbed and then back to the trees and made the decision to check it out. After all, with Arthur out of the picture, he could use magic to defend himself if things got dangerous.

He quietly made his way across the camp, not wanting to wake Arthur. In his effort to not step on a single twig, Merlin didn’t notice that Swefred was not sleeping with the other dogs.

Once he was well away from camp, he stopped moving and stayed silent, listening for whatever it was that was watching Arthur and himself. He heard the rustling again and moved in that direction. As he approached, he began to hear a low rumble. A growl. Merlin’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. If some sort of creature was stalking them, Merlin would have to use magic to quickly dispatch it. The dense trees didn’t let in even a sliver of moonlight, and in the pitch darkness, Merlin didn’t know what he was facing, or where exactly the thing even was.

“Leoht,” he breathed and a bright light formed in his palm. The light allowed Merlin to see that in front of him, crouched low and menacing as he snarled, was Swefred. Before Merlin could cast a spell or push the dog back, he sprang.

Merlin was not quite expecting the sheer weight of the dog and he let out a gasp of surprise. Or perhaps that was the sound of the wind being knocked out of him as he fell on his back. His head snapped back with the weight of the impact and smacked the hard ground. Merlin saw stars. The dog pinned him down, drool rolling off of his snarling lips and landing on Merlin’s face as his sharp black eyes bored into the warlock. Merlin used the momentary pause in the dog’s attack to writhe beneath it and kick it forcefully away from him. He stood, being relieved of the dog’s mass, and began to run, but he didn’t get far. Swefred didn’t pause this time as he lunged, sinking his teeth deep into thigh. Merlin shouted out in pain and he tripped, falling onto his front this time. Swefred continued to rend his leg and Merlin couldn’t stop the screams of agony. Blood spilled onto the forest floor and stained the dog’s maw a deep crimson. Merlin began to feel dizzy.

Swefred then sunk his teeth into Merlin’s arm. Merlin cried out, but he was quickly losing strength and focus as blood poured from the wound in his leg. The dog had punctured something large, Merlin was sure. Swefred used his grip on Merlin’s arm to turn his prey over so he could get at the throat. Again, Merlin felt the weight of the dog on his chest and hot breath in his face. The dog’s eyes were wild and blood dripped from his jaws onto Merlin as he lowered his head to the warlock’s neck.

“Merlin!”

Merlin didn’t have the energy to look, but he knew it was Arthur. Apparently, so did Swefred, because the dog didn’t strike. That pause was all it took for Arthur to rush forward and run his favorite hunting dog through with his sword. Arthur shoved the now limp canine off of his manservant and pulled Merlin to him. Merlin couldn’t help the small cry of pain that escaped his throat as he was moved.

“Merlin, what the hell were you thinking going off into the woods in the middle of the night? You idiot! I can’t believe— How could you be so—“

Merlin’s world was spinning and he could barely concentrate on Arthur’s words as his mind faded in and out of consciousness.

“Was your stupid dog,” he managed to get out, blinking slowly at his prince.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry Merlin. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I’m sorry. I brought you out here and now— You’re going to be fine, Merlin. It’s just a scratch, I’ve seen much worse. We’re going to get you back to Camelot and Gaius will take care of you. You’re going to be fine.”

Merlin blinked slowly. He wanted to tell Arthur to calm down. He wanted to comfort Arthur as he was trying to do for Merlin. He wanted to tell Arthur how he felt, how important Arthur was to him, now, before it was too late. But he was sleepy. So very sleepy.

A soft “Arthur,” was all he managed before darkness overtook him.

\---

Arthur was frantic at this point.

He had woken at Merlin’s first cry of pain and had immediately seen his manservant absent from camp. Not wasting a moment, he had grabbed his sword and ran in the direction of Merlin's screams and sounds of struggle. He had forgone putting on his boots and his bare feet throbbed as they stepped on sharp rocks, but the pain was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching fear that was coursing through Arthur's body at the sound of his friend in danger.

When Arthur happened upon the brawl, he saw Swefred poised to kill and Merlin, pinned helplessly beneath the massive dog.

"Merlin!"

The action stopped as the dog turned to face his master and Arthur didn't even need a minute to decide to run his once favored hunting dog through.

Now that the foe was vanquished, however, Arthur didn't know what to do. He knew how to treat minor battle wounds, but this was no minor wound, despite what he had told Merlin. Merlin's trouser leg had been torn away in the attack, and it allowed him to see the injury in its entirety. There were massive puncture wounds from Swefred's teeth in the pale flesh of Merlin's thigh and blood still gushed profusely from them. Some of the skin had even been torn away to reveal muscle and possibly bone if he looked hard enough. Arthur felt sick.

However, Arthur knew he had to stop the bleeding. Merlin had already passed out from blood-loss and Arthur had seen many on the battlefield die from the very same. He removed his shirt and began shredding it, tying the fabric around the wound tightly. He could see the blood flow slowing as he applied pressure, but it wouldn't be enough. He had to get Merlin to Gaius.

He slid his arms under Merlin's limp frame and carried him, bridal style, back to the camp. Had Merlin been conscious, he would have balked at being handled like a maiden, but he was completely silent, which made Arthur feel even more ill. He had to get Merlin back to Camelot. He paid no mind to the bear he had spent a good deal of his time carving, and didn't even bother to pack up the camp as he set out towards the castle; cursing himself for not bringing his horse.

He would make it. Damn it all he would. Merlin would not die on him. Not after tonight when they had been so close...

Arthur swallowed thickly and held back hot tears.

If Merlin made it, Arthur would not allow them to dance around each other anymore.

\---

Merlin woke up, bleary eyed but very much alive, although it took him a while to realize just where he was.

When he had passed out he had been in the forest; there was Swefred, about to bite into his neck, and then there was Arthur, and then nothing. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he pushed down waves of dizziness. The forest being his last memory, he wondered if maybe he actually had died, and this was some strange afterlife, but no, he recognized the smells of healing tonics and elixirs, and as his vision finally cleared he knew exactly where he was. He also knew those familiar and very anxious blue eyes that were staring at him from under blond fringe.

"Arthur?" Merlin croaked, his voice raspy and low. Arthur said nothing, but instead enveloped Merlin in his arms.

Merlin didn't have the energy to protest, and honestly, he wouldn't want to. He melted into the touch as Arthur clung to him like a lifeline.

"I thought I'd lost you," he breathed, and Merlin could feel Arthur shaking. Merlin glanced to his bandaged arm and could feel the bandages on his leg. It had been a close call, that was for sure.

"You didn't, Arthur. I'm here. I'll always be right here." Arthur pulled back suddenly and looked into Merlin's eyes once more, searching.

"No," he said finally. Merlin furrowed his brow.

“No?” Merlin questioned. What did he mean 'no'? He wasn't going to sack him for being attacked by a dog, was he?

“No.”

And before Merlin even had time to question or understand what was happening, Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s in an aggressive, bruising kiss. At first, Merlin didn’t move, but soon enough he began to respond as Arthur cupped the back of his head and pushed his tongue against the seam of Merlin’s lips, seeking entrance. Merlin gladly granted it and their tongues danced together as they touched and tasted and all Merlin could think was finally finally finally.

All too soon, Arthur pulled away, panting.

"No," he breathed a third time as he rubbed a thumb over Merlin's cheek. "I won't have us skirting around each other, pretending we have all the time in the world. I almost lost you, Merlin. And I'm not risking that happening again. Not before I get a chance to tell you– to show you–"

Merlin silenced him with another firm press of his lips.

"I know," he said. "I know."

And when Arthur held onto Merlin like he would never let go, and kissed him like it was the last kiss he would ever have, Merlin couldn't help thinking that, despite trying to kill him, maybe that dog wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
